


Die to Yourself

by theonehewaitsfor



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonehewaitsfor/pseuds/theonehewaitsfor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Lecter is presented with a new patient:<br/>A woman named Catherine who has a rare tumor. She is dying and is needing someone to help her through the process. Will Hannibal kill her, or will he let the cancer do its work?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In his spacious study, Dr. Hannibal Lecter sat in his leather chair, twiddling his thumbs. He opened his leather-bound journal and looked to see when his next appointment was. Eight o’clock was late for an appointment, but the woman on the phone had assured him, in a soft, gentle voice, that this would be a special time. He agreed. Curiosity always struck Hannibal when he had new patients. Their reason for seeking psychiatric help was interesting of course, but it was their hobbies and understanding of the finer things in life that really drove his inquiry.

 A knock on the door stirred him from his thoughts. _She_ had arrived. He stood from his chair, sighing and smoothed down the grey pinstriped, three-piece suit with his long hands. Opening the door, he tilted his head and spread his lips into a smile, however fake it may have been.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” He did not extend his hand, but simply positioned himself to hold the door open with his body as the woman stood up from the leather chair in the corner. A memory erupted into his mind of Will Graham rising from that same spot many times.

“Catherine Keane.” She swept her long, golden hair out of her face with her forearm; it was thick and straw-colored. All-American girl, the women had sparkling white teeth and golden, Californian skin. As she walked past the doctor and entered the room, he could smell Calvin Klein’s Euphoria perfume, hand sanitizer and possibly neoprene exam gloves. Hannibal stepped inside the study and pulled the door closed behind him. “Thank you for seeing me so late in the day. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you.” A twinge of a southern accent, but not a sweet Georgian accent. It was pure central Texan.

“You have not. I had a patient just before you.” A lie. Hannibal did not see any patients after five o’clock, unless it was Will Graham, Jack or Phyllis Crawford. They weren’t patients, necessarily, but colleagues and acquaintances. “Please have a seat.” Gesturing with an open hand, Catherine slid the brown leather purse off of her shoulder and sat it on her lap as she lowered herself. She was dressed for the weather in brown khakis, black rain boots, a black sweater and a thick, crème wool coat on top; it had been raining all day.

“So Catherine, why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Hannibal had seated himself across from her in his chair, the leather bound journal next to him on the glass end table and his black and gold monogrammed fountain pen on top.

“Please, call me Kate.” She smiled and removed her coat, folding it over her knees.

“Kate,”

“I was referred to you by Phyllis Crawford.” The smile dissolved from her face, seriousness settling in.

“Ah, Phyllis. I know her as Bella.” Hannibal nodded, thinking fondly of the beautiful woman.

“I’m a nurse at Mercy Medical Center. She received her results from the physician I often work with. I actually happened to go over to the oncology unit that day. Typically I work in the emergency room, primarily as a trauma nurse. Bella and I met and seemed to…. Share a bond.” Hannibal noticed the warm hazel of her eyes growing sad. “You see, Dr. Lecter, I have cancer. Not breast cancer or lung cancer. I have a rare tumor… It’s what they call a butterfly tumor. It starts in the middle and-

“Glioblastoma Multiforme or a GBM tumor.” He was genuinely surprised. A rare tumor sitting directly across from him.

“Precisely. I’m basically a ticking time bomb.” Kate pulled at a loose string on her coat.

“Why are you here to see me, Kate?” Yet again, the doctor was curious. Death was the most fascinating process to Hannibal Lecter, and he had the utmost desire to know everything about this dying woman.

“Mrs. Crawford said she had sessions with you when she was ailing, especially in her marriage with Jack. It’s just that… I’m scared. I’m dying, Dr. Lecter.” The woman sat up straight, appearing to narrow her eyes at something. More than likely, she was attempting to find something to say.

“You want a support system, yes?” The woman nodded. “Are you married?” Kate smiled, dimples appearing.

“No. I don’t even have a boyfriend. I just got out of nursing school a few years ago and I haven’t had time to date. Work has consumed me and now… This.”

“Parents? Siblings? Relatives?” Hannibal knew the answer. This woman was alone.

“No. I lived with my grandparents most of my life. I was orphaned as a toddler and I don’t have any siblings.”

“I was orphaned at a young age, also.” They found common ground to stand on. Rain hit the roof of Hannibal’s office and the pair glanced upwards towards the sound.

“I think the reason I’m struggling is because everything I’ve fought for will come to an end. How can I go on living my life knowing that everything I’ve worked so hard for, will be gone? This wasn’t supposed to happen to me. I was a cheerleader and valedictorian at my high school. I was with my grandfather up until the moment he took his last breath. I held my grandmother’s hand as she slowly fell into a coma and never woke up. I graduated top of my class at the University of Maryland. How has it been possible that it’s going to be gone? This isn’t supposed to happen. I’m twenty-four years old and a woman. Butterfly tumors are typically found only in men. Why me?” Kate was slumped forward, her head in her hands; she looked defeated.

“It is very rare, yes. But your resiliency has gotten you this far in life. Don’t let your disease define you, Catherine.” Hannibal pulled his right leg over his left and picked a piece of lint from the pant leg. His socks were exposed, but they did not reveal any portion of his leg.

“Phyllis said that you helped her.” Hannibal grinned at this, like a little boy getting a vocabulary word correct in front of the class.

“She was very dear to me and it saddens me that her disease has progressed. Do you see her often?”

“Yes, I do. She and I have lunch once a week in a café not far from the hospital. I don’t have much time because I’ve taken on more hours at work, but I make sure to always have lunch free.” Hannibal noticed the length of Kate’s neck, and the emaciation of her body. Her clavicles were exposed as the sweater swooped down when she leaned forward. Thin wrists led to bony hands and skeletal fingers.

“Is she doing well?”

“She’s dying, Dr. Lecter. I don’t know how ‘well’ she can be.” Kate raised her fingers in air quotes around “well.”

“Tell me, Kate. What is your course of action with your GBM?” He interwove his fingers together, resting his hands on his knee.

“Surgery first. I’m not sure if I really want to go through with it, but it’s worth a shot. They’ll remove as much of the tumor as possible. Then after that, I’ll start chemo. However, if I don’t respond, I’m calling it quits and going to do everything I ever wanted to do.” She giggled softly when Dr. Lecter looked up from his hands.

“Can I perfectly honest with you, Catherine?” She nodded. “I don’t think you need to see me. You seem to be functioning normally. Of course, you may not in the future because of the frontal lobe impairment. If you would like to continue seeing me, I will be happy to continue seeing you.” He slid the leather bound journal onto his lap, opening it.

“I would like to continue to see you. You give me a sense of clarity I cannot find in myself. I had to work late tonight, which is why we had to have such a late appointment. However, I am free Fridays in the morning. Do you have any spots available then?” Hannibal looked through his schedule, and in his head for his internal schedule.

“I have a spot on Friday mornings at eleven?” Kate nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! That will work wonderfully. Thank you, Dr. Lecter.”

“You’re very welcome, Catherine.”

“Please, do call me Kate.” Hannibal raised an eyebrow as he stood, again smoothing out his suit jacket.

“But Catherine suits you oh so much better.” Kate blushed at this comment, standing also; her coat was folded over her arm.

“Alright. You can call me Catherine. Thank you again for seeing me this late.”

“It’s my pleasure, truly. I will see you this Friday morning at eleven?” Hannibal began walking towards the door, unsure if Kate was following or not. He paused and glanced over his shoulder to see her walking far behind him.

“Yes. Thank you.” He walked her to the doorway of his office and stopped at the change of carpet. He would go no further.

“Goodnight Catherine.” He nodded politely, his eyes closing momentarily to capture her image and scent in his mind. 


	2. Chapter 2

Kate had lunch with Phyllis the next day, Kate donning teal scrubs. Phyllis wore a black blazer over a grey, form-fitting dress. She wore black pumps that elevated her height even further. Kate was not a tall woman, but surpassed most of her friends in high school.

“I saw Dr. Lecter last night.” Phyllis pursed her voluptuous lips at this, curious of Kate’s session.

“Are you going to tell me, or leave it for my imagination to concoct?” The blonde giggled, ordering a water, a cup of tomato soup and a vegetarian wrap. She had steered away from meat ever since she had left Texas years earlier.

“He asked about you, actually. He wanted to know how you were.” Phyllis began to laugh, but then immediately started coughing. Her expression changed drastically, fear plastered onto her face. “Phyllis?” The ebony woman stopped coughing finally, taking a long sip of her water the waiter had just placed in front of her.

“The coughing spells are only getting worse. Jack is worried. I feel very guilty, considering he’s so wrapped up in work, still. It’s Will Graham. Do you remember meeting him?” Kate had been introduced to Will one night at Jack and Phyllis’ house. They had invited her to dinner and Will had arrived.

“Yes, I do. What about Will that’s causing Jack problems?”

“Jack thinks Will is in some sort of trouble. He’s not sure, but Will seems to be functioning poorly.” Kate had a professional curiosity of Will, along with an erotic one. The man seemed very guarded, like herself. She wondered if he had nightmares, like she did.

“It will work itself out. Doesn’t it always?” Kate attempted to remain positive. Phyllis was not a positive woman, but did encourage it from the younger woman.

“So, tell me what you and Dr. Lecter discussed. I wonder if he’ll invite you over for dinner. He is an amazing cook. Do say yes if he ever asks.” Phyllis rested her hand on Kate’s from across the table, smiling with her large lips and cheeks. She seemed to radiate that day, her hair fixed beautifully and her makeup bringing out her eyes.

“I don’t know if I would feel comfortable with that… He’s my psychiatrist!” Taking a sip of her water, Kate noted the time on her watch. She still had an hour with Phyllis.

“His meals would most certainly be worth the uncomfortable nature, Kate. Hannibal also has an incredible selection of wine.” Kate smiled with her teeth exposed.

“You know how I love my wine!” She raised a hand as a version of a testament. This action elicited a small chuckle from Kate’s friend.

“I know I’m going to miss my wine the most when I’m gone.” Bella took another sip of her water, hands trembling.

“I don’t think you’ll miss anything when you’re gone, Bella. You’re no longer there. I won’t be here. We’ll be somewhere else.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Kate hurriedly ran across the puddle-filled street to get back to the hospital. Lunch with Bella was a bit morbid, but dying wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. When she entered the emergency room, she removed her fleece jacket and hung it up, grabbing and iPad from the docking station next to the coat rack.

“We have a trauma on its way, Kate. ETA ten minutes. Roll-over accident, pregnant 30 year old and four year old with head contusion, apparently unresponsive. Good thing you’re back in time.” Her colleague had just rounded the corner, leaning against the door frame to tell her the news. All traumas were told to her, and she acted from there. Trauma was her specialty. Kate loved the constant movement, both physically and mentally. She washed her hands quickly, grabbed a trauma gown and surgical mask, tying them both on while walking down the wide, dimly-lit hallway to the ambulance bay. Mercy was an L-shaped building with four floors, the 1st floor, not including the basement, devoted mostly to the emergency department. Kate bumped the door to the bay with her hip, swinging it out wide and grabbing gloves from the box secured to the wall on her way out.

“Have a good lunch?” One of the new guys asked her; he had wavy long hair worn somewhat long. However, it was clean and he was well-shaven. Kate couldn’t remember his name, but reminded herself to look at his badge later.

“Yeah. Thanks.” No one asked her about the brain tumor. Simply because no one knew. Kate hadn’t told anyone but Jack and Bella Crawford and Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Eventually she was going to be forced to tell her boss; however, that day had not yet arrived. Before the brunette man could open his mouth again, head trauma nurse Jill stepped forward at the sound of the ambulance.

“Here we go!” She shouted, her voice scratchy and deep. Jill was always the one who shouted orders. Two ambulances pulled up, one right after another. Jill took the pregnant mom, which left Kate and new guy to handle the four-year old. He was unresponsive on the gurney as the EMT’s rolled him out, ventilator in.

“Spill it.” Kate ordered, taking over pushing the gurney. If the kid was unresponsive, she only had a little bit of time to work with, or else his brain could turn to mush.

“Roll over car accident on the eighty. Major head contusion, unresponsive but still breathing. Halfway here he seemed to have difficulty breathing so we bagged him.” Kate nodded as the EMT handed her a clipboard to sign and pushed the gurney rapidly. The new guy stepped back and was immediately flooded by Kate’s co-workers.  The team, comprised of three middle-aged women and one African-American man, surrounded her and took over the ventilator, patient assessment and paperwork. It was Kate’s job and utmost desire to be the best she could be; she derived pleasure from saving lives, as most medical field job-holders did.

“Alright we’ll move him on my count. 1, 2—

Monitors started beeping as Kate had ahold of the sheet beneath the toddler.

“Move him now!” She pulled him over with a quick swipe, the boy beginning to lose color. As her team worked around her, Kate began chest compressions, the monitor blaring an angry monotone cry. As someone pumped the air bag around the young boy’s mouth, Kate continued to press her hands into his small chest. “Come on!” Kate shouted, throwing her entire body into the child. His body lifted from the table when she came up from the compressions, but remained lifeless. Someone’s hand reached out and grasped Kate. Immediately, she looked around, stunned. Her team had frozen, remained solemn and unflinching. She had continued chest compressions while everything had around her had stopped.

***

After a long day at work, Kate awoke in her full-sized bed, drenched in sweat. She had the nightmare again.

_Why always the little boy?_

Leaning over, she lifted the thick, silver flip phone from the night stand and opened it to read the time. Due to her long hours, Kate was forced to make sure she got sleep every night. However, this required her to take medication, causing tormenting dreams. It was eight in the morning, and Kate had plenty of things to do. Mentally, she began making a list as she pranced into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Kate owned a small townhouse just a few blocks from the hospital. Coincidentally, she did not own a car and walked everywhere that was reasonable. All except for Dr. Lecter’s house, Kate was within walking-distance.

“Good morning,” She mumbled to the sad, wilting bouquet of lavender peonies on her excruciatingly small mahogany breakfast table. Technically, it was Kate’s lunch and dinner table, also. Slumping into a chair, she sank down and pressed her cheek against the chilled tabletop. The warm fizzing sound echoed in the room, causing Kate to open just one eye and glance in the direction of the coffee pot to see that everything was still working properly. She had owned the coffeemaker for as long as she had remembered. Was it her high school graduation present? Or was it an impulse purchase one night when she had been drinking after her nursing exams? Kate shook the thought from her head, hiccupping and propelling herself from the table. Reaching into the cupboard above the rusting sink, Kate pulled down her favorite mug. It had her grandmother’s “E” initial on it in a sparkling, gold lettering. Pouring the coffee into the mug, Kate stood at the sink, squinting her eyes out into the bright sunlight. Sighing deeply, she lifted the mug to her mouth and began to drink, but the coffee dribbled down her chin and her camisole, torching her exposed skin. Growling in pain and frustration, she fisted the mug to the counter and left to go change.

Her bedroom was a modest, square space with a walk-in closet and a bathroom just down the hallway. There was one bay window along one wall and her dresser along the other. Picking up the dirty clothes that had collected on the floor, Kate tripped over her long, baggy pink seersucker pajama pants. The pink camisole she wore with the pants had a long brown stain reaching from her sternum to her belly button, all in tribute to her drinking skills. Peeling the camisole from her body, she held her breasts with her left forearm and walked to the dresser to select a bra. Luckily, Kate was working the night shift, and she had two hours until she needed to be at Dr. Lecter’s. Selecting a black padded bra with lace details, she snapped it together in the back and waltzed into her closet to slip the crème colored sweater from its hanger. The wool was comfortable and soft against her skin, and gave some neutrality to her outfits. Slipping off her pajama pants, Kate slipped her index finger behind the black thong string and pulled it from between her cheeks as she hummed a familiar song. As she leaned over to pull the black jeans on her legs, blood rushed to her head. Standing up straight and buttoning the pants at her waist, pain washed over her head and tormented her with pressure. Fumbling around frantically, Kate fell to her knees, nearly blinded by the hammering. She reached the brown leather handbag next to the bed and shook as she removed the orange pill bottle from the bag. Popping two green oval pills into her mouth, she clamped her jaw shut and tilted her head back as best she could.


	4. Chapter 4

“I think it’s the nightmare that caused the headache… But I can’t be sure. Sometimes the headaches come with no rhyme or reason. This time was different. I was really upset about the dream.” Her face was blank, Kate not completely present as she sat erect in the chair across from Hannibal Lecter.

“Catherine, it is natural for your body to go through processes such as this. Nightmares are not unusual. You are dying and that is not a simple thing. You will experience many things you’re not used to. Including nightmares.” Hannibal watched Kate’s golden eyes move from one object in the room to the next. Whatever she did, she avoided contact with the doctor’s eyes.

“Why am I dreaming about this, though?”

“The fact you dream about killing a small child is a good sign. It shows you’re truly aware you’re dying. However, it represents the fear of you losing your dream. Your dream of being a good nurse, which you lose when you kill the child. You lose the dream of being a mother, when you take his life. And last but not least, you lose your dignity. And that, is the most painful loss of them all, Catherine.” His lips were pursed, eyes slitted and falling on the comely woman before him.

“No one at work knows I’m dying… I don’t want to tell them.”

“Of course not. That would require you to begin slipping. Catherine, your life is becoming altered. It changed the moment you were given your diagnosis and prognosis. It changed the moment you decided to receive the surgery and proceed with Chemotherapy. Your life is changing. Whether or not you jump on the train is up to your doing.”

“Have you ever been with someone when they actually died, doctor? I mean, honestly stopped breathing. No more life. The soul of the person is gone.” Pain was splashed across Kate’s face, memories of death stabbing her in her innermost beings.

“Yes.”

“Then you know what it’s like.”

“Indeed I do. Should that make it any less painful? Absolutely not. Death is a difficult process. No one honestly expects you to handle it without being in pain, Catherine. You are a human being.”

“I don’t feel human.” She mumbled, knotting her hands together, frustrated. Angrily, she stood quickly. Getting up too quickly, she slammed her hand down on the glass table next to the chair, altering Dr. Lecter to stand.

“You’re a clever girl, Catherine. You do not make hasty decisions. Unfortunately, you are like me. You’re analytical. Of everything, yes?”

Sighing, Catherine wandered around the room, hands crossed below her breasts.

“I would be lying if I said I don’t think everything through.” Turning, she smiled at the doctor, now standing and leaning against his desk.

“Do you pace often, Catherine?”

“Yes. It’s an old habit. Better than biting my nails. My grandmother used to get so mad at me when she saw how I would bite my nails. She would put Tobasco sauce on my nails so that I wouldn’t nibble at them. Finally, I stopped before I was in high school. Then my nails grew out and got long. They were really pretty, actually…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced up at his collection of books. “You collection appears to be quite extensive.”

“Would you like to look at them?”

“Should we be talking, or… Something?” She was really fishing for Hannibal to say no, but she knew that she was paying him to aide her in the dying process.

“This is your hour, Catherine. Typically, this is how a friend and I would interact. Except we would both have a glass of wine in our hand.” Chuckling, he adjusted himself against the desk.

“Bella said you have excellent wine. And that if you invited me to dinner, I should accept your generous offer. Apparently you’re quite the entertainer, doctor.”  Hannibal smiled smugly, pursing his lips outward before pulling at the sleeve of his suit jacket.

“You and Mrs. Crawford discussed me?” He seemed to be offended, yet flattered all at once. Hannibal’s head even tilted towards the ceiling; the arch of his brow was highlighted by the iridescent lamp on his desk.

“We merely discussed your dining habits, doctor.” Wandering even further from Hannibal, Kate stepped around the blue lounge, over the detailed rug, and approached the ladder leading to the second floor of Hannibal’s office. “She is very fond of you.” It was said lightly, with little regard and meant as a comment with no attachments. Dr. Lecter took note of this remark and tilted his head a tad to the left, peering at the woman.

“How did your parents die, Catherine?” Delving further into her own world, Kate dragged her index finger along the crimson wall, feeling the cool smoothness beneath her skin. Curiosity was tapping Hannibal Lecter on the shoulder, tempting him to prod further.

“A car accident. You see, I was four, and it was my parents’ wedding anniversary. They were going to the buffet in town and dropped me off at a friend’s house. They never came back.”  Her golden eyes had lost their luminosity for a brief moment, her gaze focused on the painting in front of her. “I went to live with my grandparents the next day. It wasn’t bad, being raised by them. They became my world and gave me my independence.” She paused, directly in front of the blue loveseat, reaching an open hand to drag her soft palm across the surface.

“Do you hate your parents for leaving you? Are you angry at them?”

“That’s a silly question. I was four. It was completely out of my control. Nothing could have been done to prevent that. Besides, I wouldn’t be who I am today without their death.”

“But you wouldn’t be alone.” A pang in her heart caused Kate to almost double over. She was alone, and would be until the moment she died; it could happen at any time.

“That’s very true. However, I don’t consider myself to truly be alone. I have friends. Bella, Hanna, some of the doctors at the hospital. I don’t need people in my life. Honestly, I’m fine alone.”

“No, that is your biggest fear, Catherine. You fear your possible near-death, and fear being alone when you take your last breath.” His arms were now in the pockets of his grey suit pants, his legs crossed at the ankles straight out in front of Hannibal.

“And you believe you are alone, when in fact, you are never alone. You have a voice in your head and someone to focus your attention on at all times, Dr. Lecter. Take that finger and point it back at yourself before analyzing me. All of the things you told me tonight are things I already know about myself. Don’t be so naïve.” She chuckled, stepping back towards the black leather chair, rounding about to stand next to the doctor at his desk. After a few moments of silence and Kate glancing towards Hannibal’s profile, the doctor spoke.

“I will take your advice and consider it before our next session. Thank you.” He nodded towards her, his eyes shifting without his head turning.

“Does this mean our hour is over?”

“Indeed it does. In the meantime, I have a prescription for you. It’s an anti-anxiety medication. I believe it would be wise to take it. Have you ever taken an anti-anxiety medicine before?” Bad memories flogged Kate’s memory.

“Yes. I have. I know how they work. I don’t want to take a pill unless you believe it to be necessary?” She crossed her arms under her breasts, her posture poor and turtle-like.

“I believe it will aide in your happiness, yes. However, if you do not feel comfortable taking such medication, then I will not force you to. Do what makes you feel best, Catherine.” Humming for a quick moment, Catherine opted to take the slip of paper.

“I think it might actually help. Maybe with the dreams, too….”

“Certainly, it wouldn’t harm anything.” Nodding, Catherine gathered her things, the purse and her coat.

“I would like you to join me for dinner tomorrow night, if you are free.” The blunt comment took Kate by surprise.

“Do you, erm, think that’s a good idea? I mean… I am your patient.”

“I would like to see you as an acquaintance, Catherine. Only if you’d like to join me. Are you talented with cooking skills?”

“Yes. I love cooking and baking. My grandmother taught me well. Sometimes I speak cooking better than English.” Giggling, she pulled on the crème colored coat, placing her bag on Hannibal’s seat momentarily.

“Five thirty, please. I’ll write down the address to my home.” With his monogrammed pen and a few moments, Hannibal handed Kate a soft slip of paper with a personal statement: “From the Desk of Doctor Hannibal Lecter.”

“Nice.” Kate smiled, and pulled the door open with a hard tug.

“Goodbye Catherine.”

“Goodbye Dr. Lecter. Thank you.” 


	5. Chapter 5

***

Kate had no idea what she would wear to a dinner party at Hannibal’s home. After an excruciatingly long night at work, Kate stopped at the liquor store just down the street from her apartment, swiping up a bottle of fairly expensive scotch. While she preferred a glass of sweet red wine, Kate had no idea what Hannibal would enjoy. Scotch seemed to be acceptable.

Clutching the paper bag-wrapped bottle, Kate wandered back down the snow dusted brick sidewalk towards her townhouse, buried between the others. The sun was just beginning to creep between homes, casting a bright view onto the street before her. A wetness was crawling up her ankles; the slush was soaking her teal scrub pants, causing Kate to shake her head. Even more laundry for her to do. Luckily, Kate hardly ever wore anything but her traditional scrubs, even when she left. Most of her errands were run after or before work.

When she arrived back in her house, she dropped her keys in the small dish on the side table in the entryway. Light poured in through the stained glass of her front door, an emerald and crimson stain on the floor.

“Honey, I’m home.” She joked, smiling at herself before slipping off her tennis shoes clumsily on the elaborate rug next to the side table. Next to her worn Aasics trainers were a pair of L.L. Bean snow boots that Kate imagined herself wearing when she took her dog out to go to the bathroom. Of course, she really only wore the boots when trekking to and from work when there was a lot of snow on the ground. She also had a pair of traditional yellow rain boots in her bedroom closet; they were worn mostly in the wet summers. Growing up in Texas, Kate never ran cross the problem of needing more than three pairs of shoes. A pair of tennis shoes to walk places in, a pair of flip flops to wear at the pool, and a pair of cowboy boots to wear on the ranch. Apart from those three pairs, hardly any other shoes ever made it into Kate’s closet.

Collapsing on her bed at the top of the stairs, Kate inhaled the subtle lavender scent of her homemade quilt. The beautiful white and pastel throw had belonged to her great-grandmother and over time made the leap from generation to generation, eventually falling into Kate’s hands when her grandmother passed away. Unknowingly, Kate fell asleep, her arms spread wide and feet dangling over the side of the bed. She was exhausted, a headache creeping up slowly.

Darkness had fallen upon the room when Kate startled herself to consciousness. Her neck ached and her feet were frozen stiff. Pulling her left arm from beneath her, she glanced at her watch, swearing. She had a little over an hour and a half to shower, dress herself, throw on a bit of makeup, and arrive at Hannibal Lecter’s house. Hurriedly, she stripped, tossing her colorful outfit to the floor, tripping as she stormed into the teensy bathroom with white porcelain. After showering off the smell of disease and death, Kate wound her golden locks into a pale pink towel and tiptoed to her closet, clutching her breasts. She was stark naked, not a care in the world except to look exquisite. Selecting a cobalt blue shift dress that fell just above the knee, Kate slipped on a pair of nude pumps and fastened the apricot lace bra in the back. Slipping on a pair of black panties, Kate felt together. Excluding her hair still wrapped in a towel upon her head. Drying her hair with the black Conair, Kate managed to only hit her head once with the hot end and finally gave up, pinning her hair back as best as she could. The chignon looked wonderful with Kate’s long, elegant neck. Swiping on a bit of blush, mascara and a tint of pink lipstick, Kate threw on her coat while simultaneously throwing things into a black leather clutch.

***

Kate absolutely loathed taking a taxi anywhere in Baltimore. Considering she loved walking and found it vastly simpler, taxis were just a large pain the ass. When the awkwardness subsided, Kate was dropped off at the doorstep of Dr. Lecter’s. Paying the taxi driver, she nodded without speaking a word and struggled to walk up the steps. Rarely did Kate wear any shoe that had a heel. Even her tennis shoes were a bit much, at times.

“Hello Catherine.” She had been standing on the front porch for less than a minute when the doctor opened his chestnut colored front door.

“Good evening, doctor.” Smiling stiffly, the girl was holding back a scream. She was shaking from the cold temperatures, the hair on her legs standing straight in reaction to the painful weather.

“Please, come inside.” The muscular-framed man ushered her in, offering to take her coat as he closed the door behind her. Slipping the fabric from her shoulders, Hannibal had to let out a sharp breath. The brilliant color against Catherine’s golden skin sent shivers down his spine.

“You look wonderful.” Kate hadn’t even noticed the doctor’s outfit; he wore a dashing grey suit, maroon and plum paisley tie and a crème dress shirt below the grey vest. A white apron was folded and tied neatly directly at waist level; the crème colored shirt was rolled up at the sleeves. His hair was appropriately slicked to one side, coming just over his ear. “I was just removing the cannelloni from the oven.”  

“It smells wonderful,” The comment was honest and the scent of rich food caused Kate’s mouth to moisten. She realized she hadn’t had one bite of food in over twelve hours.

“Wine? It’s a sauvignon blanc. Delicious and perfect for this meal.” Stepping into the kitchen behind Hannibal, Kate felt at home.

“Wine sounds wonderful, thank you. Would you like some help with the preparation?” Tilting his head with curiosity, Hannibal smiled.

“That is a very kind gesture, Catherine. Yes, thank you. I would enjoy your assistance. But first, wine.” Handing her a glass nearly over-filled, Kate sipped quickly, a burn trickling down her neck and making her head buzz.

“Oh! This is…. Serious wine.” She giggled, clacking over to a ceramic dish filled with something that smelled of the ocean. “Mmm…. That smells incredible!”

“It’s spinach and veal cannelloni with a shitake mushroom and garlic glaze. Paired with tomatoes roasted over an evergreen-infused wood fire and an herb orzo with scallops. For dessert, I prepared a fig tart with a dulce de leche drizzle, served warm, of course.” As Hannibal spoke, he witnessed Catherine’s eyes widen with desire.

“I can hardly wait. I’m famished.”

“Did you eat today? You look as if you haven’t had a meal in days. Don’t worry. After this meal, you’ll feel wonderful.” Stirring a thick golden brown liquid in a stainless steel pan, Hannibal hovered over the cannelloni, pouring the sauce with deliberation over the entrée. As he finished, Catherine was placing the orzo on the island next to the veal dish.

“Shall we go to the dining room?” Carrying two dishes at once, Hannibal gestured for Catherine to pick up the orzo before her. She did so and followed the doctor through the house, taking turns that she wouldn’t easily remember. Surely, the woman couldn’t get lost that easily. “Have a seat and I will get us our wine.” Leaving her, Kate sat to the right of the head of the table, hands folded in her lap. When he returned, Hannibal sat the glass of wine in front of the white China plate.

“A toast?”

“Certainly.” Kate nodded, raising her glass towards Hannibal’s.

“To friends.”

“And food!” Kate interjected with a giggle, clinking her glass with the doctor’s. They both took a sip and waited for Hannibal to serve her. After they both had food covering their plate, they both began eating. “Oh this is delicious. Doctor, you’ve outdone yourself. This is incredible.” Taking a large mouthful of wine, Kate continued to eat. The doctor was very precise in his habits and his eyes closed as he wrapped his lips around the fork.

“Have you taken the medication I prescribed?”

“No. I don’t think I’m going to. I’m already taking enough, so I figured it was pointless. I’m not up for trying right now.” Hannibal inhaled sharply, jutting out his bottom lip; he drew his index finger along his defined jaw.

“You aren’t eating, Catherine.” The woman hadn’t even noticed until the doctor had pointed it out.

“Forgive me. I was so focused on everything around. That happens sometimes, with the cancer. I get distracted.” It was an honest side effect and Catherine was sensitive towards it.

“Don’t fret. Please, let me get you more wine.” She hadn’t even noticed the glass no longer held any liquid.

“Oh, I’ve had plenty. Thank you, though.” The doctor was already standing, napkin in his chair at the head of the table.

“Pray tell, you’re not driving, Catherine. I heard the familiar sound of a taxi in front of my home earlier. You’re not working tomorrow?” Sundays were Kate’s day off.

“No… I’m not.”

“Have another glass!” Cheerfully, Hannibal reached for the bottle at the end of the dishes and poured with elegance into Kate’s glass.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Tell me, Catherine… Why did you select the medical field to play host to your profession?” He was seated again, napkin in lap. Catherine took a sip of wine before talking, her head beginning to feel fuzzy and heavy.

“Well, I wanted to take care of other people. I felt like I owed them my service, even without knowing them. Also, I was good at science in high school. Anatomy thrilled me. Memorization was a strong suite for me, and of course nurses have to be able to memorize practically everything.”

“I agree with that last remark. The memorization nurses need to have is quite fascinating, I admit.”

“Did you… Did you used to work in a hospital?” Her lips felt like silly putty.

“I worked in the same place you did, Catherine. Except I was a physician. You see, people were very important to me. I just lost too many. The mind seemed better suited for me. So I turned to psychiatry.”

“I think I need to go home… I’m not… I’m not feeling well.” Slowly, Kate felt herself growing more and more tired. Time seemed to stretch itself out like elastic. Standing, she clutched for the table before her, the room changing colors and tilting, also.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink. Come, let’s move you somewhere safer and more comfortable.” Holding onto her arm just above the elbow, Hannibal guided Kate down the hallway and managed to make it halfway to the staircase before the woman slumped over, falling into Hannibal’s expecting arms. Silence fell over the house and he hoisted her into his arms, carrying her as he climbed the narrow cherry oak staircase with elaborate carving on the banister. Clutching her tightly, Hannibal made it into the guest bedroom directly across from his bedroom. Folding back the rich, silky plum duvet and sheet set, Hannibal place Catherine lightly on top. Slipping off her pumps, he rested them on the floor at the foot of the bed and fixed her hair to splay out around her on the pillow. Contemplating, Dr. Lecter left her dress on, for that moment. There were so many paths he could walk down. However, she was too innocent in this particular moment. He hadn’t realized how many pills he had crushed up in her drink. Clearly, the sickly woman wouldn’t handle much. A little tweaking and he wouldn’t have any problems fulfilling his future plans. 


	6. Chapter 6

With her arms spread out wide and one leg tangled with the other, Catherine awoke with a raspy inhale. Stunned and confused, her mouth hung open with sleep plastered on her face as she looked around. She was not in her bed. Frantic, Kate turned to one side and noticed the bed was freshly made and there was no sign that anyone had been next to her. Struggling, the woman propelled herself from the plush mattress and walked barefooted through the bedroom. The door was open all the way, light shining in from a room across the hall. Tiptoeing, Kate peeked from her room into the one across the way, taking note of the shades and hues of grey. With deduction, Kate realized it was Hannibal’s bedroom. Wandering out of the room, she felt along the wide hallway, turning to look over the banister to the entryway on the first floor. A strange sound echoed through the house from the kitchen. Holding onto the oak rail, Kate gathered her surroundings and attempted to analyze them. Her head felt heavy and her body seemed to drag itself where her mind directed it. Clearly, she was hung-over. How much had she had to drink?

“Ah, Kate.”  The groggy young woman had just trotted into the kitchen, tugging at the hem of her dress.

“What happened last night? How much did I drink?” Angry at herself, she internally made a promise not to have any wine again at the doctor’s.

“Several glasses. You also hadn’t had much to eat all day, you had said. Therefore, it’s no surprise I had to carry you up the stairs and put you in the guest bedroom. Would you like to shower? I could launder your dress and undergarments.” She blushed at the thought of Dr. Lecter handling her delicates.

“If it isn’t too much of a problem or a hassle for you.” Shouldering her cheek, she continued to turn shades of pink.

“It would be my pleasure, Catherine. The least I can do for someone in need. I was meaning to ask also, when is your surgery scheduled for?” Hannibal leaned against the counter, measuring a liquid, his eyes narrowed at the glass before him.

“It is next month. I need to tell my bosses.”

“You shouldn’t be frightened at this.”

“They’re notorious for firing people for no reason.”

“A foolish mistake on their part. If they were to terminate you, that is.” Agreeing, Kate raised her shoulders. “Now, how about that shower?”

***

Using all of Dr. Lecter’s shower supplies was very uncomfortable. As she stepped from the glamorous and vast shower with a massaging head, Kate found a plush white towel and matching robe folded neatly on the marble counter. Drying herself, she wound the gold mane into the fabric and tugged the robe on. Stepping out fresh and clean, she tiptoed shyly into the guest bedroom. Startling her, Dr. Lecter was hovering over the bed.

“Oh!” Kate exclaimed, pulling the opening of the robe to a close. Dr. Lecter turned, adjusting the pillows. She noticed her shift dress laid at the end of the bed, along with her bra and panties in a pair next to the dress.

“I was just putting back your clothes. Excuse me while you dress yourself. I’ve already had breakfast and coffee. I hope you don’t mind. However, lunch will be ready in about thirty minutes. Help yourself to a book in the library just under the stairs while I finish the preparations.” Giggling to herself as Dr. Lecter exited, Kate realized he had not invited her to assist him in the kitchen. Dressing quickly, she took her hair from the towel and ran her fingers through the long locks in an attempt to dry them out. Folding the robe and towel, she returned them to the master bathroom on her way down the stairs.

Kate had selected a lovely novel about surgical techniques, wandering into the kitchen to rest herself in the worn leather chair poised in the corner of the grey room.

“That is a well- loved book, I must admit.” Hannibal’s dark, rich voice reminded Kate of a warm cup of foreign coffee.

“It seemed very interesting.”

“Do you believe we have much in common, Catherine?” The doctor was focused on stirring some form of a sauce, the sleeves of his quarter-zip evergreen sweater pushed back towards his elbows. He wore a white dress shirt beneath with a black and brown polka-dot tie; it was intricately knotted at the neck.

“I think we might. Most of it has to deal with our jobs. Mostly you and your former position. We understand the attention we must pay to our patients.”

“People are very important to me, yes.” Hannibal smiled, resting the sauce on the black counter below him.

“What are we having for lunch?” Kate had her legs crossed at the knee, the worn book resting in her lap. Her hair spilled over her thin, narrow shoulder and left a slight wet spot when she moved.

“It’s not very polite to change the subject, Catherine.” Glancing up from his preparations, Hannibal’s thin lips were pursed together, his eyes hooded with slight annoyance.

“I apologize.” She blushed violently, embarrassed at herself. Rarely a brash woman, Kate realized she had offended the doctor.

“We are having eggplant and lamb stew with a side of warm rosemary French bread and for dessert, one of my favorites: flambéed vanilla-poached pears with an apricot sauce. A delicacy.” Elegancy at its finest; Dr. Lecter had once again proven to Kate that she was not up to par with his fanciness.

“I’m very much looking forward to that.” Smiling, Kate was excited to break the fast. Her head was pounding and she longed for a good, hearty meal. Hannibal turned from the woman, closing his eyes and inhaling. _It won’t be long_ , he thought. Taking her life would bring him much pleasure. 


	7. Chapter 7

“Do you have a minute to talk, Michael?” Kate had knocked softly on the open door to her supervisor’s office.

“Of course, Katie. Come in.” Michael had been referring to her as ‘Katie’ for as long as she could remember. Never did Kate correct him. “Please, come in and close the door.” She did so and then found herself seated in the maroon upholstered chair directly before Michael’s desk. He was a strongly built man in his late 30’s, divorced with a daughter just out of diapers. His head was shaved; his eyes were a dingy green and his eyebrows a startling black. To Kate, he was not unusual looking, but to the rest of the staff, he came across as an intimidating figure. Michael had at one time, been interested in Kate, and even asked her on a date. Actually, he had asked her over to his house so that he could cook for her. This sort of partnership made Kate uncomfortable. She was very independent and simple-minded. Her main focus was work and she did not surround herself with men or make it a point to go out with men very often. Dating a little in high school and college, Kate had a serious boyfriend in her undergraduate years at U of M and was even engaged to him during her graduate studies. However, the man broke her heart when Kate found him in bed with another woman. She had seen very little of the opposite sex from that point on. It had been three years.

“I, erm…. Michael, I, I have some news to share with you.”

“Please, Katie, share.” Tilting his head, he interlaced his fingers and placed his hands on the monstrous desk between them. Kate felt very tiny at that moment.

“I have a brain tumor. It’s a butterfly tumor…”

“Oh my God. Ka-

“No, please. Michael, let me get through this.” His eyes were cringed with pain. The sight before Kate was painful.

“They’ll do surgery and chemotherapy. I’m trying to remain positive. I’m seeing a therapist and I’m considering all options for the equation. Honestly, I’m just telling you because I need to cut back on work… If that’s okay with you.” Startled, Michael simply sat with a blank face. After a few moments, he spoke.

“Of course. By all means. You can even have a few weeks to yourself. How long have you known?”

“Uh…. Around two months or so.”

“Katie… You should have come to me sooner.” He shook his head in disappointment.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything, Michael. You and I both know that. Now, my surgery is in two weeks, on the fourth. I’ll need medical leave. Also, I would appreciate you keeping this to yourself. I plan on telling everyone later today.” Standing, Kate nodded and ran her sweating palms down her bright uniform. As she turned to leave, she paused.

“Oh, and Michael?” The man was still seated at his desk, eyes down-turned and chest rising rapidly. He glanced up at Kate. “Don’t give me any sympathy. I’m dying and it’s going be the absolute fucking worst.” She smiled and closed the door behind her as she left.

***

Sitting in her pajama pants and warm sweater, Kate sipped on a glass of pink moscato, watching a sappy Sex and the City re-run. It was a sad, lonely and very typical Saturday night for Kate. Reaching over from the tan, suede loveseat, she picked her Blackberry off of the glass table adjacent to her. Kate needed to tell someone. He answered after the first ring.

“Catherine?”

“I told my boss today, Dr. Lecter.”

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“What I had been planning for months. I think he took it really hard…” She lead off, biting at a finger nail. Michael kept his soft spot for Kate hidden, but to her it was common knowledge. In all honesty, Kate wouldn’t mind seeing him. He would be able to make her happy.

“How do you feel, Catherine? Your voice hints at disappointment. Were you expecting overwhelming pity?”

“Absolutely not.” She was taken aback, a bit offended. “You and I both know I don’t want, need or expect sympathy. Especially pity. Goodbye, Dr. Lecter.”

“Catherine, I was merely asking you questions to see if you were emotionally stable. You are still experiencing alcohol withdrawal symptoms?” In layman’s terms, Dr. Lecter was toying with Kate, asking her if she was still hungover.

“Goodbye, Dr. Lecter.” Ending the call, Kate stood and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Heaviness consumed her. Sitting back down, she pulled herself into a ball, tugging the knit, crème blanket to her chin and closed her eyes.

***

Hannibal had insulted Catherine. She was now ignoring him and probably furious. However, he had tried calling multiple times and she didn’t answer. The psychiatrist had grown concerned. To kill someone, they had to prove themselves to Hannibal. He saw Catherine as a possible insensitive, hatred woman. However, she was proving to be completely opposite. She was innocent.

Arriving at her townhouse, Hannibal rapped on her door. He called out her name.

“Catherine, it’s Dr. Lecter. Let me in, please.” He was very worried. Knocking once again, he deduced that she was very much dead. Pulling the keys from his pocket, he unlocked her door and closed it quietly behind him. Slipping off his shoes and resting the keys down on the floor beside them, he snuck down the narrow hallway. Rounding the corner to his left, Dr. Lecter witnessed the sleeping, quiet Catherine he had longed to see. She was curled up, almost in the fetal position. _Self-soothing_ , he thought. How long had she been taking care of herself? Longer than he had? Resting himself in front of her, he swept his fingers through her hair, exposing her face. Breath was leaving her mouth and nose softly and he found himself pressing his lips to her forehead. She smelled strongly of Dove bar soap and Euphoria, yet again. Obviously someone kept buying it for her. Or she had treated herself. If Hannibal wasn’t careful, he would lose everything that mattered to him. 


	8. Chapter 8

“Dr. Lecter,” Kate had awoken the next morning and checked her phone. Seeing the numerous missed calls from her psychiatrist, she immediately called him back.

“Ah, Catherine. I was very worried after you’d hung up on me. Terribly rude.” She blushed violently, embarrassed at herself.

“I am so sorry. I was frustrated and very tired. So I hung up, attempting not to make a fool of myself. Then, I fell asleep on the couch.”

“Had you been drinking last night?” Kate paused, thinking back. She couldn’t tell him the truth. However, she had no choice.

“Yes. I had a glass.” Obviously, Hannibal knew the answer. However, he was curious to see if she would lie to him. How much would she tell him?

“I think it might be best if you refrain from alcoholic beverages for now, Catherine.” His voice sounded paternal.

“I agree.” Kate didn’t want to agree, but she had little options.

“I’ve prepared breakfast. Would you like to join me? I am also travel-ready. I could be at your house in forty-five minutes.” The suddenness of his proposal jolted Kate. Breakfast sounded delicious, especially considering she had nothing but a bottle of pink moscato, two bell peppers and ketchup in her refrigerator.

“That sounds lovely. Thank you.”

“Goodbye Catherine.” She had forty-five minutes to be showered and dressed, presentable for Dr. Hannibal Lecter. What an audience.

***

Dressed in a white wool sweater and a pair of dark wash flare jeans, Kate pulled her hair into a bun, popped in a pair of pearl earrings and swiped on mascara and blush. She was prepared, just as long as she gathered up the misplaced things in the quaint living room. Just as Kate was organizing the magazines on the stained coffee table, the doorbell rang. Smoothing the sweater down over her waist, Kate flipped back her fresh, wavy hair and went to the door.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter.”

“Catherine, you look lovely. That sweater compliments your complexion.” In Dr. Lecter’s hand was a large leather bag. He wore a navy collared shirt, an evergreen quarter-zip sweater and deep brown slacks with cognac wing-tip shoes. Hannibal’s hair was slicked back perfectly and his forehead shined against the morning sun. His front-set forehead cast a shadow over his dark eyes and his mountainous cheeks portrayed his lips to be thinner than normal.

“I thought it was time you saw me what I typically look like. Please, come in from the cold.” Pressing her arm flat against the door, Kate also backed up against the wall to let Hannibal come through. As the wind caught her hair, Dr. Lecter closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, passing by the woman. He waited for her at the end of the wood-floored hallway, unsure of where to go. Although Lecter had previously been in her home, it had been dark and his senses only took him so far. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen? That way you can set down breakfast and I can set the table in the dining room.”

“Excellent.” Dr. Lecter smiled, following behind Catherine, struggling not to let his eyes linger on her curvaceous hips. The living room was an awkward rectangle with a wall not reaching the other white-painted surface, separating it from the kitchen. The open floor plan had attracted Kate to the house originally, but it wasn’t until she saw the attic above the first floor that really pulled her in. The attic was a small dusty place full of half-windows. Kate was still working on painting and finishing the room, trying to turn it into a place to read, relax and even work on art.

“You can set your bag here and get everything out if you’d like. I would offer you something to drink but I only have water, a bit of wine and ketchup. None of those you would enjoy.” Kate had her eyes pointed towards the floor, blushing.

“I’ve brought everything I needed.”

“Thank you. I’m going to go set the dining room table.”

“Catherine, that isn’t necessary. This table right here will work perfectly fine.” Hannibal gestured with an open palm towards the tiny breakfast nook Kate had created. With two vintage chairs and an old chessboard table from a park, she had the perfect space to eat and read. The small window just above was decorated with a flower box; it served as a home to birds, bees and everything in between.

“Oh no, Dr. I don’t think that’s right. I want to give and show you my best.”

“While I strive for a life lived in luxury, Catherine, I do enjoy the simple things in life from time to time.” Smirking, the doctor continued to pull out containers from his bag.

“Alright then….” She began to reach for a container, but Dr. Lecter shot her a dirty look.

“Let me touch it. I am the chef and I should handle the food.” Kate was resting her elbows against the countertop, her golden waves falling over her right shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I don’t want you to put any work into it. You may not be the guest, but I would still enjoy being polite, Catherine.” Pressing her lips together in a sort of smirk, Kate smiled awkwardly and blushed again. Hair fell into her face as she looked at her exposed hands, cheeks filling with warmth and color. “Please don’t be embarrassed, either. Not around me.” Taking his index finger, Hannibal Lecter placed it under her chin, bringing her face equal with his; her eyes were level with his. Just a few moments passed between the two, but Kate felt an electricity. Stepping away, she left the area and sat down in one of the breakfast nook chairs, hands in her lap.

***


	9. Chapter 9

***

“Are you nervous for your surgery, Catherine?” The young woman was standing over the sink, washing Hannibal’s stainless steel containers, lids and silverware he brought over.

“I think so, yes. I’m nervous for the aftermath. Whether or not they were able to get it. Or whether or not I die on the table.” The thought paralyzed Kate, a wave of nausea pulsing through her body.

“Your odds are not in your favor, despite the surgery. You do realize that, yes?”

“Of course I do.”

“Does chemotherapy frighten you?”

“Yes.”

“The loss of dignity is debilitating. Also, the loss of your beauty would be heart breaking.”

“I’m not concerned with my appearance.”

“It’s a lovely one. I would be concerned.” Dr. Lecter was hovering in the corner of the kitchen, around the corner from where he and Catherine had just shared a meal.

“Thank you, but physical attractiveness is just a term for me. I strive to look beautiful on the outside, of course, but it’s not as important as inner beauty. Intelligence is much more appealing than a nice face, Dr. Lecter.” Startling thoughts flashed through Hannibal Lecter’s mind. Abigail Hobbs, Miriam Lass, all the other women… But his most painful unintentional victim, Will Graham. Will was caught in the crossfires of Hannibal’s curiosity, causing both of them pain and agony. Hannibal wanted nothing more than to wrong his rights, but he knew that was not an option at this point.

Dr. Lecter found comfort in Catherine, similar to Lady Murasaki. Her scent flooded his nose and tears came to his eyes. Agony poisoned him, causing Hannibal to turn his back on Catherine and compose himself. He made a mental note to focus on Catherine and the simplicity she thrust upon his tainted soul. Catherine was the kind of woman Hannibal envisioned having a life with, even though that was against his strict moral code. This woman made him want to throw everything away.  

“I do care about beauty. However, I want to survive the surgery, Dr. Lecter. More than anything, I want so badly to live, regardless of how I may look.” Approaching her from his position against the far counter, Hannibal came within a hand’s length from Catherine.

“When do you feel most alive?” He was now behind her, head bent down to nestle against her golden-hair covered neck.

“Dr. Lecter,” Kate’s hands were scarlet from the heat and suds of the water. Reaching up, Kate put her hand on the faucet, stopping the water with a hard turn of her wrist. “What are you doing?” She whispered.

“What do you want me to do, Catherine?” Thoughts soared through her mind, visions of sweet nothings, intimacy and two souls.

“Make me feel beautiful.”

***

Kate turned, pressing her lower back against the sink, reaching her hands to interlock her fingers behind Hannibal’s neck. He nudged himself forward, his brow making contact with her exposed forehead.

“Do you want this, Catherine?” His voice softened towards her plush lips, spread just wide enough to reveal the tips of her sparkling teeth.

“I do. Do you want this, Hannibal?” When his name left her lips, her large, golden eyes fluttered shut and then opened widely again. She was doe-eyed as Hannibal’s hands felt along the insatiable curves underneath the white wool sweater.

“Indeed.” He brought his hand up to her cheek, her apricot skin seeming photographically airbrushed.

“Hannibal,” She exhaled, yet again, dipping her head down, closing her eyes.

“What is it?”

“I can’t start something I’m not sure I can finish…”

“You’re frightened to die, aren’t you, Catherine?” His fingers wove through her hair, his lips finding the crown of her golden hair.

“I can’t leave something behind that’s unfinished…”

“We will just have to be sure to finish it.” His thin lips began to whisper something more, but Hannibal stopped himself. Looking up from the white tile, Catherine’s eyes bored into Hannibal’s deep-set, shadowed, dark eyes. Taking his hand, Kate lead Hannibal through the dining room, took a sharp right and found her bedroom, open and waiting. The pastel quilt was folded at the end of the bed, Kate’s decorative pillows resting at the head.

“Lie down.” Hannibal gestured with an open hand. As she folded herself backwards onto the bed, Kate closed her eyes and rested her head against the soft surface. Her blonde hair splayed out, spreading beneath her. Exhaling, she felt a tug at her waist. Opening her eyes, she saw Hannibal dragging the sweater from her body, slipping it smoothly over her head in one swift move.

“Hannibal,” She whispered, reaching out her arms to pull his face between her hands. The tenderness of her palms and dainty fingers caused Lecter’s body to shiver. “Come to me.” She drew him in, unclasping her pale purple bra with one hand behind the back. It was a magic trick to some, but Kate had managed it before she turned fourteen. As she was sitting up, Hannibal pressed his thin lips against her supple breasts. As his wet mouth consumed her tenderness, she moaned softly, a high-pitched note of pleasure.

Unlatching himself, Dr. Lecter began removing his layers, one by one as Kate stood to pull off her jeans and grey cotton boyshorts. Before him stood a woman who overworked herself. Regarding her breasts, they were the only bit on her that seemed to have any fat. The rest of her was mostly skin and bone. The sight somewhat frightened Lecter. Her skin was glowing as she wrapped her arms around herself, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His chiseled body was exposed in front of her, his manhood displayed just below her line of vision. Feeling herself tighten with anticipation, Hannibal moved himself so that he pressed his body against hers. The shared warmth accelerated the moment and before they knew it, Catherine and Hannibal were tangled together, kissing passionately. Their kisses were fiery, passionate and hurried. However, time seemed to inch by as they became more and more intimate.

“You’re sure, yes?” Catherine asked, pressing her hand on the grey-hair coated chest. She wanted to ask before proceeding. Nodding, Hannibal gave his silent consent, pulling Kate upon him, simultaneous groans escaping between their lips.

Kate initiated the movement, pulling herself up and down upon him, her hands locked on his broad shoulders. His hair had fallen from its usual position, slicked back neatly. Clearly, the doctor didn’t care because his eyes were fixed on the woman before him, bucking herself furiously.

“Catherine,” His jaw jutted out, an animalistic aspect coming out to play.

“Oh, yes.” She moaned, her head dipping back as the doctor began pushing himself in and out of the woman on top of him. The room was spinning and Kate cringed, her fingers clawing into Hannibal’s nude chest. “Yes,” She cried out, now almost being thrown off amidst the wild movements. Together, they were climbing higher and higher, and finally, Kate reached her climax, crying loudly as Hannibal offered a guttural moan, spilling himself inside her. Falling over, Kate pulled the sheet over her exposed body, kissing the bicep of the man at her side. Hannibal draped the sheet over his groin, and folded his arms behind his head, closing his eyes.

Hannibal’s plans had changed drastically, frightening him deeply. He was originally going to dispense of this woman, but she proved herself to be pure, innocent and moral. _What had he done?_

Kate reflected on her actions, silently cursing herself. Sleeping with her psychiatrist was not part of the plan. The tumor was already enough for her to handle, but now that she decided to fuck with her desires, there was no going back. _What had she done?_

 

 

 


End file.
